


The god of silent loss

by Ischa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Sexual Content, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Bucky isn't found by Hydra after he falls, but by kind Russian scientists.<br/>Roughly 70 years of Bucky finding his way back to Steve's side. </p>
<p>  <i>“What are you doing?” </i><br/><i>“It's nearly done,” Alexej replied.</i><br/><i>“Alex-”</i><br/><i>Alexej sighed. “I'm painting a red star on your arm.”</i><br/><i>“Why?”</i><br/><i>“Because I can't paint a red heart on it now, can I?” Alexej said and bent down to kiss him gently.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The god of silent loss

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dictating this story to omletlove. Thank you for figuring this out with me.  
> Beta: Apollo and R. Who was in favor of the epilogue...<3

**~One~**  
 _1944, somewhere in the Alps_

He falls.  
He falls and it's cold around him and someone is screaming.  
He falls.

~+~  
He woke up with a start. He was hurting, there were voices he didn't understand, a woman, older. His eyes hurt, he wanted to shield them, but – he screamed.  
More voices. Trying to soothe him. He didn't understand.

“What?“ He felt strange on his left side, he glanced down at his arm. It was gone. It was just gone.

His head hurt. It was a nightmare.  
He could feel his body ache in – every single place. Lying on the bed, it was a bed; too soft to be the ground, was torture too. Sitting up – the woman tried to help. She was brushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead. She was talking.  
He shook his head.  
Her mouth thinned. She was thinking.

“Anuschka,” she said, pointing at herself and then she was pointing at him.  
It clicked in his head what she wanted, it clicked that she was Russian too. Maybe, maybe it was Romanian or – he didn't know. He didn't understand.  
“Anuschka,” she said again and pointed at herself then at him and he knew what she wanted, but he could not remember.

“I don't know. I don't know.” All he could remember was horror and that he fell. Ice, cold, wind rushing by and stealing a voice away. But – nothing before or after that.  
She nodded, said something he didn't understand and touched his head. It hurt like a bitch. Ah, he thought dimly. Head injury. Yes that would probably explain why he couldn't remember.  
She grabbed something from the small table and held it out to him.  
Dogtags. His most likely. He studied them. They didn't feel familiar. The name (James B. Barnes), didn't either.

“James,” she said, pointing at him.

“James,” he repeated and then shook his head. “Barnes,” he tried, it sounded better, not right but better.

She nodded. “Barnes,” she said and then pushed a glass of water at him. “Voda,” she said and he grabbed the glass carefully.

Once he took a few sips, they just sat there together. He looked around. The room didn't look shabby or dirty. In fact it was very clean like a hospital maybe. Medical facility for sure.  
It would explain the firm dressings on his arm – his stump.

“What?” he asked and looked at the arm.  
She said something in Russian and he sighed in frustration. “I don't understand.”  
She shook her head.  
It wasn't her fault he never bothered to learn Russian.  
He closed his eyes and let his body slid down on the bed, breathed in and out carefully until he was asleep.

~+~  
He was falling and someone was screaming. It was cold and white. Snow. There was so much snow.  
He woke up with a start. His heart was beating way too fast. He clenched his hand in the sheets. He was soaked in sweat. Someone put a cool washcloth to his forehead; he opened his eyes. It wasn't Anuschka.

“Anuschka?” he asked.

“Gone,” the man said. It was an older man. White beard, strong accent. Lab-coat.

“Are you a doctor?”

“Yes,” he said. He was holding out a glass of water to him.

“Voda,” he said.

The man smiled. “Yes, voda. I am Doctor Nobukow.”

“What happened to me?”

“You fell,” Nobukow replied.

“The arm?”

He looked stricken for a moment. “Gone.”

“Yes, but – did you do that?”

“Da,” Nobukow said.

“What?”

“Yes, da, yes.”

“Okay,” Barnes replied. “Why?”

“Damaged. Bad.”

Barnes nodded. Okay, okay. He – yes, he had been in the cold and probably injured and it had most likely gotten infected or something. He wasn't a medic, he was – he didn't know. A soldier. American.  
“I need to get back,” he said.

“Where?” Nobukow asked. “Snowstorm outside.”

“Shit, I don't know. Base-camp?”

“No base-camp close,” Nobukow said.

“I must come from somewhere,” Barnes replied.

“You fell,” Nobukow said.

“I know. I know -”

“No, you feel. People feel they dead.”

“I – don't understand,” Barnes said.

“We don't understand too.” Nobukow was looking at him long and hard. Barnes felt like a science experiment. “Eat,” he said after a while.

Barnes wanted to tell him no, but he knew he had to keep up his strength or get some of it back. His arm itched where it was gone. He couldn't look at the stump.  
Barnes took the bowl with soup and the bread. It was surprisingly good. He couldn't remember having something so good in a while, but then he didn't even know his name. He only knew what the dogtags said.  
Eating tired him out. Doctor Nobukow gave him some pills and he slept again.

~+~  
Over the next few days he learned that he was in a science facility, on outpost or something. Secret and under no one's observation. Rich Russians who fled the war. There were only seven people when he didn't count himself.  
Only Doctor Nobukow and another Doctor, Doctor Steiner spoke English. Not good and often it took minutes until Barnes understood what they were trying to say, but it was better than not being able to talk to someone at all.  
Anuschka was relentless in her habit to teach him basic Russian; so he could ask for things, like water and food. (“Khleb, Khleb, Barnes!”)

There was no way to go outside just yet as the snowstorm was still going strong. And where would he go anyway? He was injured, he still felt weak, even with Anuschka's tender care.  
He still had nightmares.

“You remember something?” Doctor Nobukow asked as Barnes woke up.

“No. Yes. I fall. I fall and the wind rushes by so fast, so hard. It's so cold. There is snow. Everything is white and someone is screaming. Maybe me, maybe someone else. I fall.”

“Alexej see you fall.”

“He saw me?” Barnes sat up straighter.

“Yes. He think you dead, but you not.”

“Why? Where did I – what happened to me?”

“You fall a long way. And your arm is shattered and gone. We take the rest and clean. We think you die, but you live.”

Barnes frowned. “I live. But I should be dead. It was a bad fall?”

“Yes, every bone shattered, but you live.” Doctor Nobukow said. “You are strong.”

Barnes laughed, showed the stump. “I'm damaged.”

“A lot soldiers are,” Nobukow replied.

Barnes nodded. He was sure he had seen men die. Doctor Steiner told him the war was raging for years now and American soldiers were dying here as well. “Everyone thinks I'm dead,” Barnes suddenly said.

“Yes, we think so. When storm is over we can go outside.”

“And then?”

“Drive you to town,” Doctor Nobukow said.

“Town?”

“Far away. No American base close by. No American soldiers close by. But-”

“Yeah, shit,” Barnes said. “And there's still a war outside.”

“Yes.”

It was good to know that he wasn't a prisoner. But he didn't know if it was a good idea to drive into a town when all he could say was 'voda' and 'khleb'. In the middle of a war. These people at least wanted to help him. “You said I should be dead.”

“Yes.”

“But I'm not. Why?”

Doctor Nobukow looked at him like he was debating what to say. Like he wanted to spare Barnes more anguish, but also was curious. He was a scientist after all. “Your blood. Different.”

“Different, how?”

“We don't know,” Nobukow said.

“But you want to find out?”

“Very much.”

Barnes bit his lip. “Fine.”

Nabukow nodded, smiled. “Thank you.”

“No,” Barnes said. “Thank you. For helping me, for – saving my life.”

The doctor nodded again. “Eat.”

Barnes did.

~+~  
The facility was specializing in some kind of robotics, Barnes had no idea what they were making, but it all looked very complicated.

“Looks good,” Doctor Steiner said, as she changed his dressings. She had actually a doctor in medicine. She had a nice voice and Barnes was sure Alexej was her son. They had the same eyes. And mouth. Smiled the same way, a bit crooked. She was still an attractive woman, Barnes thought.

“Looked better once upon a time,” Barnes said.

She looked up at him. Bit her lip. “You are strong. Your blood-”

“I know it's different,” Barnes cut in. Nobukow had told him that someone had tempered with it. They didn't know what has been done to Barnes, but they were sure, after days of testing, that it helped him survive the fall and also helped him heal.

The arm had looked too badly injured to heal on its own. They hadn't known back then about the healing properties of Barnes’ blood, so they had cut the infected parts off. Now...now Doctor Nobukow wasn't so sure if it had been such a good idea.  
Barnes didn't blame him. Pretty much every doctor would have done the same in his situation to save someone's life.

“Yes, we can give a new arm. Stronger, better.”

“A prostheses?”

She made a disgusted face. “No, better.” She finished dressing the stump and got up. “I can show you.”

~+~  
The arm was – it was metal, but not as heavy as he thought it would be. It moved. Barnes had never seen anything like this.

“Will it hurt?”

“Yes,” Doctor Steiner said. “Nerves, so you can use fingers.” She demonstrated for better understanding.

“This thing was never used on anyone was it?”

She bit her lip. “We tried. Too much pain, healing not good, but you are different.”

He wanted to say that he needed to think about it, but – these people wanted to help him. This arm could help him. It looked strong. He knew deep down that he wanted to go back home, wherever that was and he knew that it would be hard for damaged soldiers and this could help him.

“Fine. Let's do this.”

“It will hurt,” she said.

“I know. It hurts all the time now too,” Barnes replied.

She nodded like she understood. Maybe she did. He hadn't seen her husband. She was still wearing a ring around her finger.

~+~  
Fitting the arm took weeks, it hurt like hell all the time. The painkillers were burning through his system faster than they should.  
What kept him sane was Alexej. He was insisting on learning English and Barnes found he was a more patient teacher than he thought. It helped that Doctor Steiner had already taught him the basics.  
Of course as he was teaching Alexej, Alexej was teaching him in return. He wasn't a scientist. He was a soldier, used to be one. He was only a few years younger than Barnes. His eyes were a startling green. He was soaking up everything Barnes told him like a sponge.

“How is the arm?” Alexej asked.

“Hurts like a bitch.”

“Bitch?” Alexej asked.  
Barnes slapped himself mentally, but explained anyway.  
“You are a soldier,” Alexej said.

“Yes, I was I guess.”

“But with the arm you can be again.”

“I don't think I liked being a soldier,” Barnes said.

“Yes, me neither,” Alexej said. “Too much death.” He looked at the wall behind Barnes. “I was a good soldier. I was good at killing people – they made me good at that.”

“Is this why you're here now? With your mother?”

Alexej smiled wryly. “Mental breakdown. Gone crazy.” He stood abruptly and held out a hand to Barnes. “Let us train.”

“Train?”

“Like gladiators?”

“With swords?” Barnes asked confused.

“No,” Alexej shook his head. “With hands.”

“Ah, a spar.”

“Spar,” Alexej repeated. He smiled. “Yes, you need to learn to use the arm.”

Barnes frowned down at the arm. It was true he hadn't done much more than picking up cups with it. “You sure? I don't know how strong it is. How well I can control it.”

“You didn't break cups, did you?”

“No,” Barnes said.

“You don't break my head then,” Alexej replied. He wriggled his fingers in an invitation.  
Barnes grabbed his hand.

~+~  
Sparing with Alexej became a thing Barnes very much enjoyed not only for the control he was learning, but also for the simple human contact.  
At the back of his mind there was a shadowy memory of him having a friend like this before. Someone to share things with. Someone to lie beside exhausted and giddy on adrenalin. Bruised, but happy for some reason.  
Alexej's fingers were brushing his arm and it sent a thrill up his spine.

“What will you do once the war is over?” Alexej asked, turning around, and looking down at Barnes.

“Go home?” Barnes asked.

Alexej nodded, licked his lips. “Why not stay here?”

“I -”

“Your Russian is really good,” Alexej cut in. “Besides I like having you around.”

There was something in his eyes, something – something that mirrored what Barnes was feeling. He reached out and brushed his thumb over the corner of Alexej's lips.  
“I like -”

Alexej leaned in then and their lips brushed. Alexej didn't pull away, just let his lips rest against Barnes'. Barnes' fingers curled around Alexej's neck and pulled him in, closer.  
It was still a tentative kiss.  
When Alexej pulled away his eyes were sparkling with happiness. “When you remember, I will let you go.”  
Barnes didn't think that he would leave even if he remembered. He pulled Alexej in again.

~+~  
They were living in their own world. Snow and ice melted and the long winter gave way to spring, then summer, then autumn and Barnes Russian was nearly perfect. No one was speaking English with him anymore, except for Alexej.

“I don't know if it's me or the thing they did to me,” Barnes said to Doctor Steiner.

“What?” She asked.

“The Russian, how fast I pick up skills.”

“We can test that too. I am German.”

“The name kinda gave you away, Doc,” Barnes said.

“It doesn't make you uncomfortable?” Doctor Steiner asked.

“Helena,” he said. “You gave me a new arm. And your son and I-”

She gave him a look. He knew she knew, but there was an unspoken rule about this thing he did with Alexej.  
“I can teach you German. Some French, too,” she frowned. “My French is not good, but we have books.”

“Sure,” he said easily. Couldn't hurt to know a few more languages. He was somewhere in Europe after all.

“We start tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

~+~  
When they went hunting deer Barnes discovered that he was really good with a rifle. Once he looked through the scope he felt an icy calm wash over him. His kill was perfect.  
It was disturbing.  
He breathed heavy after he saw the deer fall.

“You okay?” Alexej asked and the engineer, Marek, gave him a look.

“Guess, they taught me how to kill well, too.”

“All armies are the same,” Marek said. “Come on. We need to take care of the deer.”

Marek was a no nonsense kind of man. He was the only Polish resident of their little hideout. And Barnes never got the story how he ended up here and he thought he would probably never get it out of Marek or anyone else.  
The only thing he knew for sure was, that Marek, like everyone else in that facility, had lost something or someone important.  
They were kindred spirits, maybe that was why Alexej had dragged his broken but still breathing body back to the facility where they could fix him up again.  
(“It was your handsome face,” Alexej had whispered one night when Barnes had been pensive. “It was love at first sight.”  
Barnes had kissed him for that. And let Alexej bury his cock deep in his throat.)

“I don't think I can stomach it now,” Barnes said.

Marek gave him a look. “Wait here then.”

Barnes nodded gratefully and sat down on a tree stump to wait for them to come back. He would help drag the once gutted deer back, that was not the problem; he just couldn't watch it being gutted right now. Maybe with time – maybe not. He put the rifle aside. There was no doubt in his mind that he had been a sniper for his country.

~+~  
“Hold still,” Alexej said as Barnes woke up. It smelled sharply like paint in the small bedroom. Alexej was a warm presents on his side. Calm and comforting. He took a breath to let the tension go.

“What are you doing?”

“It's nearly done,” Alexej replied.

“Alex-”

Alexej sighed. “I'm painting a red star on your arm.”

“Why?”

“Because I can't paint a red heart on it now, can I?” Alexej said and bent down to kiss him gently. “Now hold still, my Winter Soldat.”

“Winter Soldat....”

“It means winter soldier,” Alexej said, putting the paint away.

“I know, your mother is teaching me German.”

“And you're picking it up faster than a kid. Your brain is amazing.”

“Why winter soldier?” Barnes asked, watching Alexej.

“Because that is what you were to me the first time I saw you. A soldier in winter. Makes sense.”

“I have a name,” Barnes said wryly.

“I always have the feeling you're still looking for the right one. You don't go by your first name, Barnes.”

“Feels wrong,” Barnes replied.

“No kidding,” Alexej said, kissing him hard.

“So, you're giving me a new one.”

“Yes, you like it?” Alexej asked.

“I do,” Barnes answered, grabbing Alexej by the neck and pulling him in again.

“Careful, don't smudge it.” Alexej laughed.

~+~  
Autumn gave way to another seemingly endless winter. The war was over; but none of them seemed in a hurry to leave the facility. They had pretty much anything they needed, here deep in the woods. Anuschka and the other older woman, Olga were tending the garden, Marek and Alexej were hunting. Sometimes Barnes went with them. He was the best shot by far.  
He had whole conversations with Helena in German now.

“Sehr gut,” she said, looking over his arm. “Looks like your body had no problems with it at all.”

“Would hope so, after nearly two years I'd loathed to part with it.” It was a part of him now.  
He could not imagine himself without it.

“It doesn't give you any trouble?”

“No,” he said.

She nodded. “I imagine with time we will adjust it. When the technology gets better.”

“Helena, this is really good.”

“Ich weiß,” she got up, paced the room. “Barnes, we can't stay here forever.”

“I know.”

“We need to be out there, so we can be part of the newest developments in science and medicine.”

“You don't want to go back to Germany, do you?”

“Maybe not yet, but in a few years? I think I will. What are you planning to do?”

“I know you don't want to hear that, but I am in love with your son and as long as I can I want to stay with him.”

She sighed. “You are a good man, but the world doesn't understand – isn't ready to accept you or Alexej like you are.”

He looked at her. “You want to take him with you. You want me to let him go.”

“Yes,” he said.

“When?”

“A year, maybe two,” Helena answered. “Depends on the others. But this was never a permanent solution.”

Barnes nodded.

~+~  
Doctor Nobukow took him aside a week later.

“Helena talked to you?”

“Yes,” he said. The Russian was as easy as breathing now.

“You need to learn to look after your arm, Barnes.”

“I know,” he said.

“Or you could come with me and Marek once we are ready to move on.”

He looked at the old man. He liked Nobukow. “Where is Anuschka going?”

“She hasn't decided yet.”

Barnes nodded. “Thank you.”

“Barnes,” Nobukow said, “Marek made the arm. He can make it better. Science evolves every day. You should come with us.”

“I'll think about it.”

 

**~Two~**  
 _1947, Outskirts of Krakow_

It had been hard to leave Alex and Barnes had taken the easy way out, stealing away in the middle of the night with Marek and Doctor Nobukow.  
He had known that it was the best he could do, really. He had nothing to offer Alexej. He had no name and there was always this shadow of someone who had been once important to Barnes. And there was of course Helena. Barnes knew he owed her big time; letting her son go was the only thing she had ever asked of him.  
It was the right thing to do, even if it hurt like hell.

Marek was the only one who ventured into the city frequently, sometimes he took Barnes with him, but only in winter when they could cover up the arm. The arm made people remember them.  
The farmhouse they were living in was bought very cheap under a false name. Nobukow didn't care to learn the language; he trusted Marek to handle things. Barnes was fascinated by the people and the country. The war had been over for just two short years and you could see the signs of it everywhere, but the people had begun to move on. Just lived, stubbornly.  
Something in him related to that strongly.  
There was so much to do. Nobukow was building something in the barn that looked like it should be in a science fiction novel. But then the arm he called his own looked like it should be in that same novel. Maybe with aliens.  
(“Why? Where are we going?” - “The future.”) Who said that? Who-

“Barnes, I need a hand,” Marek called out to him and he stopped chopping the wood to help Marek unload the crates from the wagon. The sooner they were down the better, Marek would want to brush the horse down a soon as possible.  
Horses and cows, he thought fondly. Chickens, they had chickens.

They worked in silence. Barnes didn't know if Marek didn't like him or if he was just an introvert by nature. He cared for the arm. Improved it constantly. Was teaching Barnes Polish patiently. But he never spoke about himself. Where he came from and why he was still sticking with Doctor Nobukow. Barnes had tried to breach the subject, but was shut down at once.

“What are you even building with him?” Barnes asked as they had the last crates down.

Marek brushed the horse down. “A Cryo-chamber.”

“To freeze people in?” Barnes asked.

“Yes,” Marek replied.

“Why?”

“To see if we can do it,” Marek answered, but Barnes wasn't buying it.

Neither Marek nor Nobukow were the types to just build something like that for fun. On a small scale maybe, but the thing in the barn was huge.  
“Not buying it,” he said.

“Don't care,” Marek replied. “Can you bring that over to the old man?” He asked, pointing at a few boxes.

“Sure.”

~+~  
“So, Marek says you're building a Cryo-chamber just for the fun,” Barnes said, putting the crates down.

“Does he now?” the doctor asked, there was a small tired smile around his lips.

“Yes. He doesn't like me much, does he?”

“He's just – tired and angry I guess.”

“Why?”

“That arm you're wearing was for his brother. His brother died before it could be fitted right.”

“But -”

“No,” Nobukow cut in, putting the screwdriver aside, he rubbed his eyes under his glasses and looked at Barnes. “It's not your fault. It wasn't Marek's either. His brother was a soldier, he lost his arm, made it through the infection. Killed himself. Couldn't handle it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You made it through it all. You are wearing the arm. It's a constant reminder of his success and also his failure to save his brother,” Nobukow said. “Marek is a brilliant man. He could do anything in this post war world, but -”

“He stays here on the farm and tends to my arm obsessively and helps you with the Chamber. Why are you building the Cryo-chamber, Doctor Nobukow?” Barnes asked.

“It's partly for the fun,” Nobukow admitted. “I had big plans for this with Doctor Steiner. She is a brilliant woman after all.”

“She is,” Barnes replied. It still hurt that he would not see her or Alexej again. But after seven months the pain was lessening.

“We thought it could help patients who were deadly ill. People about to die. People we couldn't help because the medicine wasn't there yet. You understand?” Nobukow asked.

“Yes. So you wanted to freeze them and then unfreeze them once a cure was found for these diseases?”

“That is the plan, yes.”

“But- “ he frowned, he wasn't an expert in this, still. “Doesn't a body die when frozen?”

“You didn't,” Doctor Nobukow replied.

“I'm different,” Barnes said.

“Yes, and maybe once we can figure out why and how exactly, we can make a serum from your blood that will help people survive the cold.”

“Sounds like science fiction to me,” Barnes said, shrugging.  
Nobukow pointed to the arm and smiled.  
Barnes smiled back. “You win that one.”

“Of course.”

“Don't make too long, Doc, Marek is making pietogi,” Barnes said.

“Again?” Nobukow sighed.

Barnes laughed, leaving the man to his Cryo-chamber.

~+~  
When winter rolled around again, Barnes' Polish was as good as his German or Russian. He was allowed to drive into the city alone, while Marek and the Doctor were finishing the Chamber.  
There was talk about testing it on the chickens.  
Poor things, he thought.

The snow was crunching under his shoes and it was steering something inside him. Memories were slowly coming back to him after all these years.  
Sounds and smells. Girls laughing, softness of skirts. Dancing. He remembered he liked to dance. Something about a woman in a red dress. She had an English accent. The person beside him. Big shadow, something – (“Maybe she's got a friend-”), a warm hand curling around his shoulder. Music, smell of whiskey.

And the fall. Always the fall. Someone screaming (his name?) most likely. Fingers brushing his before he falls. Snow, white walls rushing by. Cold, the soft sound his body makes as it hits the ground. Sky above him. Pain. Searing pain.

He clutched his left arm with his human hand and breathed. Someone had been there that day he fell. Someone had been there. Someone he knew, well. Someone he couldn't remember. Why the hell couldn't he remember?

“Are you alright?” A girl asked.

He nodded, smiled at her. She frowned at him. Her cheeks and nose were red. She was wearing a knitted hat and scarf, mittens not gloves. No make-up. She wasn't really someone he would have looked at twice – back, back in New York. Brooklyn. Yes, that was where he was from.

“I'm fine,” he said. Nearly no accent at all to speak off. His words were a bit softer than a native Polish would say them, his tongue not curling right around them.

She gave him a look, stuck her hand out. “Ewa,” she said.

“Barnes,” he answered. That one was giving him away.

“English?”

“American,” he answered, letting go of her hand.

“Far away from home,” Ewa said.

“I guess,” Barnes replied.

“Is your arm alright?” Ewa asked.

He wondered what she thought about it. Maybe that he had been injured in the war? Wasn't so far off. He had been.  
“Yes, it's -”

“The war,” Ewa said, nodding.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling at her. She smiled back.

When she smiled it transformed her whole face. She looked pretty, young, happy, hopeful. He wanted to take her out dancing.

~+~  
“You got yourself a girl, Barnes,” Marek asked, he used 'dziewczyna', which pretty much meant girlfriend, as he was doing something to the arm.  
The arm hadn't been a problem purely because it was still winter and he and Ewa usually met up when they were both on errands.

“No, I-”

“But you like her. I saw you last week. Smiling at her, Barnes,” he looked up at Barnes then. “She doesn't know the slightest thing about you and that is probably mostly because you don't know anything about yourself.”

“It's coming back in bits and pieces,” Barnes admitted.

Marek cocked his head. “How is that?” he asked, closing the panel he had been working on.

Barnes flexed his fingers. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Better than before. I can...it feels more like my real hand.”

Marek nodded. “That is good, but you can't ever forget that it's not your real arm. It is – a weapon.”

“It doesn't feel like one,” Barnes replied.

Marek smiled wryly. “But it is one. You can crush a man's skull with your fingers, Barnes. It's a good thing you aren't the man to do such things, but if someone should find out about that arm...” he trailed off.

Barnes knew. There was a reason beyond grief that Marek wasn't working for anyone. Or the government. That he was hiding away here, on a farm on the outskirts of a big city. He didn't even venture into the city that often anymore. Just stayed here, cared for the animals, he helped Nobukow with the Chamber.

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Marek asked. “What will you tell her when she asks? And she will.”

“The truth?” Barnes said.

“The truth?”

“That kind Russians saved my life and a kind Polish engineer helped them make me feel better.”

Marek sighed. “You are a hopeless case.” He got up, cleaned his hands on a rag. “But I am glad the arm does you some good.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Marek said and Barnes knew it wasn't just something you say for him. He meant it.  
Barnes nodded.

~+~  
“You think you have enough?” Barnes joked, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down.

Nobukow smiled. “I'm sorry I'm not as good at this as Doctor Steiner.”

“It's fine. So any idea what it is that makes me so special?”

“You still don't remember?” Nobukow asked.

“No.”

“The American's had a special project during the war. We heard rumors about it, of course. You always do when it comes to such things. It was a super soldier project. Doctor Erskine, brilliant man, he threw his lot in with the Americans and was successful. He was murdered of course, and his formula lost. But what we know about it – it looks like what you have in your blood.”

Barnes frowned. “I was in that project?”

“Maybe? There were surely more than one candidate,” Doctor Nobukow replied.

“Doc-”

“The only success was Captain America.”

(“Yeah. And I threw up?” - “This isn't payback, is it?” - “Now why would I do that?”)  
“I knew him,” Barnes said.

“I imagine every one of you did. There were films and comics.” Nobukow said.

“But-”

“He was a hero. He died a hero. They never recovered his body.”

“They never recovered mine,” Barnes said.

“Ah,” Nobukow said gently, turning to him. “You aren't dead, Sergeant Barnes.”

“No, I'm not,” Barnes said. “Did you know all along? About the serum?”

“No, Doctor Steiner had her suspicions, but we couldn't say for sure. It is common knowledge that people are after the formula. Even back then the Nazis tried to recreate it. Experimented on prisoners most likely. They would love to get their hands on someone like you.”

Barnes sighed. He rubbed his eyes. “I better break up with Ewa.”

“I won't tell you what to do with your life, Barnes,” Nobukow said.

“Really?” Barnes smiled wryly.

“Really. But the war is still too fresh. There are people out there hiding, waiting. You are in danger still.”

Barnes nodded. “Okay. I don't want to get anyone hurt.”

“You are a good boy.”

“I'm thirty,” Barnes replied. “Hardly a boy.” He hopped down from the table. In fact he felt old beyond his years. “Gonna help Marek feed the chickens or something.”

“You do that.”

~+~  
There was no better way to break up with a girl you haven't even kissed for real yet than letting her see you kissing someone else.  
It was cruel, but it was easier and saver for her than explaining why they couldn't see each other anymore.  
She had to hate him.

“You did the right thing,” Marek said that evening.

“Yeah? So hurting people is a good thing now?”

“You know what I mean, Barnes. It's better for her to not know you too well.” He wasn't looking up from preparing dinner. “Nobukow could use your help with the Chamber.”

“What can I do? You're the brilliant engineer. I am just a soldier.”

“You're a special soldier,” Marek said.

“I'm an experiment,” Barnes replied. “Like Frankenstein's monster.”

“You're wallowing in self-pity, Barnes. Get a grip.”

“Fine, what does Nobukow want with me?”

“We're ready to test the Chamber.”

“Did the chickens survive the tests?” Barnes asked.

Marek put down a chicken-foot on the table. “Not really. On the bright side, roasted chicken today for dinner.”

“But you want to put me in there?”

“You were frozen when Alexej brought you back.”

“I thought-”

“Yeah, no. Frozen. Your heart was still beating faintly, so we took a chance.” Marek shrugged. “Turned out well for us. For you too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He frowned down at the foot. “How long?”

“A few minutes to start with, half a day max,” Marek said. “You don't have to decide now. Think about it.”

“I will.”

~+~  
“Okay, Doc, you can freeze my handsome face for all eternity,” Barnes said.

Nobukow smiled and then frowned. “It won't take that long. Just thirty minutes to start with. You will be fine.”

“I know. I trust you.” And the thing was, he did. These people were like family. He still couldn't remember his own family, or that familiar shadow at his side. No name, no face for that shadow just that feeling that he was important and that Barnes would do anything for him. Including killing. Maybe even dying. “Can I keep my clothes on?”

“Yes,” Nobukow said. “You didn't eat or drink anything since yesterday?”

Barnes rolled his eyes. “No. I know procedure, no fluids.”

“Right. Step into it then. It might feel claustrophobic,” the doctor said.

“Way to sell this thing to me,” Barnes joked. But it did look a bit like a coffin. It had a window to look out off, but the rest was coffin-shaped metal.

“It's a prototype, maybe the next one will be prettier.”

“Will I know what is happening?” Barnes asked as he stepped into the Cryo-chamber.

“You should not,” Nobukow said. “But we can't say for sure with you.”

“Right,” he replied, he closed his eyes.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Barnes said. “Get on with it.”

The door closed with a final hiss and it was suddenly very cold. The window was frozen over, he couldn't see anything on the other side and then his mind went blank. Not like sleep, but like a switch turned, like a blow to the head – but without the pain.

 

**~Three~**  
 _1973, warehouse in New York_

Hearing came back first. Then feeling: he was shivering.

“Well that sure as hell felt longer than thirty minutes,” the Soldier said.

The man stared at him. It was not Nobukow. His muscles coiled. The arm began to stir. Making a soft noise.  
“What the hell?” The man backed away a few steps.

The Soldier took a breath. “Where is Nobukow?” he asked.

“I don't understand,” the man said. He was shivering, but -

No time for this. Why didn't the man understand? The Soldier understood him just fine. “Where is Nobukow?” he asked again.

“I don't-”

“Why?!”

“Ah, you do speak English,” the man said. He was breathing heavily. His suit looked expensive but rumbled like he had been doing something straining.

“Yes,” the Soldier replied.

“You didn't, before, you were-”

“Russian,” the Soldier said. Maybe the Cryo-chamber was scrambling his brain a bit. Maybe – he needed to talk to Nobukow about this. “Nobukow?”

“I don't know anyone by that name,” the man answered.

“Where am I?” The Soldier asked, he was aware of the warehouse behind the man. It didn't smell like the country, it didn't look like the barn.

“New York, warehouse in New York.”

“America?” the Soldier asked.

“Yes,” the man replied. “You a soldier?”

The Soldier looked down at the dogtags. “Yes, I was.”

“Okay....okay,” the man ran a hand over his face. “I wasn't expecting this. Okay? I wasn't. It was auctioned as a piece of old technology – not with someone inside. I thought you were dead, you know? But then when I hooked the Chamber up your heart started to beat faster and – here you are.”

“Auction?”

“Yes, I bought the chamber, obviously not you, but -” he stopped. “What is your name?”

“Winter Soldat,” he said.

The man looked skeptical. “You German?”

“No.”

“But it sounds German.”

“It is, it means the Winter Soldier,” the Soldier said. Alexej's pretty face and piercing eyes blinded him for a second. It was like a blow to his head. He staggered, caught himself with the left hand on the frame of the chamber.

“Are you alright?” The man asked.

“What's your name?”

“Stark, Howard Stark,” he said and he was staring again. Not at the arm, but at his face.

“You know me,” the Soldier said.

“Yes, I mean, I used to know someone with your face. But he died.”

The Soldier took off the dogtags, handed them over to Stark. “James B. Barnes.”

“Yes, they called you Bucky,” Stark replied, clutching at the tags. “The Cap, he used to call you Bucky, but everyone caught on. Everyone – Gabe said he saw you fall. The Captain saw you fall.”

Bucky, he thought. Yes, and no. He wasn't that anymore. Couldn't really remember ever being Bucky.  
“Stark,” he said, a cocky smile flashed through his mind. “I knew you too.”

“Yes.”

“You look old,” the Soldier said. Memories were coming back in fast flashes.

“You don't,” Stark replied.

“I feel old,” The Soldier said. “I feel so old. How long have I been in there?”

“I can't be sure, but – it's 1973,” Stark said.

He grabbed the chamber harder. “I remember 1947.”

“Good Lord,” Stark said.

The Soldier staggered again, his stomach was revolting, he felt sick. He sank to his knees and passed out on the warehouse floor.

~+~  
He came to on a soft bed, Howard was on the phone with someone. The Soldier felt cold. He curled into the covers, took shallow breathes.  
Listened for Howard to hang up the phone.

“What now?” The Soldier asked.

“I – canceled my meetings. I had a doctor check you out.”

“The arm-”

“I trust him,” Howard cut in. “Besides he knows I would hunt his ass down should this get out.”  
The Soldier nodded.  
“I looked for him, you know? We never looked for you. I guess, there was no time. But he was so angry after you died, blamed himself - “ Howard stopped. “Maybe not the right time to dwell on the past.”

“Did you find his body?” The Soldier asked.

“No, we stopped looking after a while, we stopped looking,” Howard said. He sounded ashamed now.

“Nobukow told me he died a hero.”

“He did. Maybe he died, because there was nothing else to do for him,” Howard said, looking out of the window.

“I can't remember his face. I know I knew him, but I can't remember his face.”

“I have a picture, I can tell you all about him,” Howard offered.

The Soldier shook his head. “No. I think we should let the past rest.” His hand made a noise.

“Does that bother you?” Howard asked.

“Yes, it feels – wrong.”

“I can look at it, Bucky,” he said.

“Don't call me that,” The Soldier hissed. He took a breath. “He is dead. I guess even James B. Barnes is dead now.”

“What do you want to be called?”

“Winter Soldier will do,” he said. He closed his eyes again.

“Fine,” Howard said. “Don't think that won't raise eyebrows once I start to introduce you.”

“I don't want to be introduced, Howard,” The Soldier said.

“What do you want then?”

“Peace,” he answered.

“Let me look at that arm,” Howard replied.

~+~  
He slept for the first few days. Howard was his only company and that was good too. He watched television until he got restless.  
In his bones he was still angry. Why was he here? The future? What happened?

“I was digging around for that Nobukow guy. He's dead.”

“Figured as much,” The Soldier said. “He was old even back then.”

“Yes, it seems the Chamber malfunctioned,” Howard replied.

“What about Marek?”

“No records of anyone with that name. Maybe if you gave me a last name?”

The Soldier shook his head. “Doesn't matter. Maybe he thought it would be better that way. The arm is a weapon. I am a weapon.”

“Doesn't seem like one to me,” Howard said.

“I'm a soldier Howard. I'm sure you remember that. I used to be a good sniper,” the Soldier replied.

“You were one of the best we had back then.”

“Thanks I guess.” He looked at Howard. “You're still dealing in weapons, don't you?”

“Yes, but I'm trying to branch out. Hence the Cryo-chamber. I want to help people.”

“I want to help people too.”

“How?”

“I am a soldier,” he answered. “With this, I might be The Soldier.”

“No,” Howard said. “The war is over.”

“The war is never over. I saw the news, Howard. There is always a war you can fight in.”

“Do you want to get killed so badly?” Howard asked.

“I need something to do.”

“Fine, I know a few people who might be interested in your skill-set. Peggy-”

“No,” he cut in, because he remembered Peggy Carter. She used to be – she and Steve were in love. “No one can know I'm alive, no one can know I used to be him.”

“A uniform then?”

The Soldier smiled wryly. “Wouldn't be the first time you made one.”

Howard smiled back. “No, it wouldn't be the first time.”

~+~  
There was a mask, the uniform was a homage to the jacket he used to have when he was still part of the Howling Commandos. Everything was black now. It's fitting. He guessed, he was still or again in mourning.

“What's with the star?” Howard asked. “A statement from the clever Russians who made this for you?”

“A love-token,” The Winter Soldier answered, his fingers brushing over the star. Still bright red after all these years. He didn't want to forget Alexej like he forgot Steve.

“Not very patriotic,” Howard joked.

“I already died for this country, Howard. I don't think you can get more patriotic than that.”

Howard looked at him. Nodded. “Just don't except people not to wonder.”

“You think the star will be the problem? Not the arm?”  
Howard grinned. It made him look younger, like his old self. Like the man The Soldier used to know. He didn't think he liked Howard back then much. He liked him now, so it really didn't matter.

~+~  
Three months later the Winter Soldier was a SHIELD operative. He didn't ask how Howard made it happen. He was sure that Stark money helped pave the way.  
They hadn't trusted him at first and he couldn’t blame them. Half of SHIELD probably thought he was ex KGB, or a double agent.  
After half a year and no losses on his team, with all missions a success, they were trusting him to lead his own team. He still preferred to follow orders. That was one reason why he helped out other teams as well.

~+~  
“Can he speak?” the new agent asked.

“He can, he just doesn't like to,” Danner answered.

The Soldier liked Danner. He had a wicked sense of humor and never asked any stupid questions about the lack of a first name or the mask that covered half the Winter Soldier's face.  
“What's with the red star?” the new guy asked.

“Love-token,” The Soldier answered.

“You a -”

“I would think twice about pissing the Winter Soldier off,” Bella cut in. Her name wasn't really Bella, but everyone called her that. Like everyone called him The Winter Soldier. Only Danner was going by his last name in this unit.

He hoped that New Guy would fit in just fine. Right now it didn't look too good.  
“Yeah? He doesn't look too tough,” New Guy said. Which was a fucking lie, The Winter Soldier thought.  
Bella rolled her eyes. In a way she reminded him of Peggy Carter. She had a steel-core too and the sweetest smile. Bella was smiling right now at him.

“Wanna go a round with him?”

“Don't swing that way,” New Guy said.

What an idiot, The Winter Soldier thought. “You could take him, drunk,” he said to Bella.

She laughed. “Fucking sweet talker.”

He wondered if she would press herself against him after the spar again today. He hoped she would. It was a nice way to work out the rest of the adrenalin. It was nice that she never demanded anything else than that he make her come. No strings attached.

“I see we're started bonding, good,” Kelley said. “No day like today. I have a nice little terrorist problem that is totally up your alley.” He handed them the files.  
Bella started questioning.  
Kelley was mostly talking to her anyway. It seemed to piss New Guy off. The Soldier hoped this wouldn't be a problem.  
He didn't want to break that guy's nose for being an asshole.

~+~  
Taking out the terrorist cell was a walk in the park. They left New Guy in the car. It was his first real mission and no one wanted any complications, because New Guy got nervous or trigger happy.  
No one got shot and Danner got all the info from their computers.

He loved when a plan came together like this. It made him remember the days of the Howling Commandos sometimes. They were fond memories now, didn't hurt at all.

Good missions made Bella horny. So it wasn't a surprise when she pressed herself against him and dragged him into an empty sparing room.  
Bella traced the red star afterward. Her breathing was still a bit too fast, but his was back to normal again.

“Is it really a love-token or are you being nostalgic for you homeland?” she teased.

“Born and raised in the USA,” The Soldier replied.

“So, it is a love-token then.” She kissed it. “Why a star?”

“Said they couldn't paint a red heart,” The Soldier replied. The memory didn't hurt anymore at all.

Bella laughed. “Guess that's right. You know New Guy thinks you're a Soviet spy, right?”

“You think he will be problem?”

Bella shrugged. “Only time will tell, but you know we've got your back.”

“I know,” The Soldier said, sliding a finger insider her. She moaned. “Time for another round?”

“Don't you dare stop!” She gasped.

“I take that as a yes.”

~+~  
New Guy didn't make any problems at all. He did his job, but he never really fit in. The Soldier tried not to read too much into it.  
He was seeing Howard less and less and that wasn't only because he was on a mission as often as he could. He worked well with other teams too.  
Howard was more involved with Stark Industries these days than with SHIELD. He had a kid too.

“Ever thought about settling down and have kids?” Howard asked on one of his rare visits to The Soldier's apartment. No one except for Howard and Kelley knew where he was living. But only Howard knew who he used to be.

“Once in '47 in post war Poland I met a girl I thought could be the one,” The Soldier replied.

“Didn't work out, hmm?”

“No. You were involved with the Super Soldier Project,” The Soldier said.

“Yes.”

“You know that all kinds of people would've wanted to get their hands on me and the arm if they knew.”

“Yes,” Howard said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

“After all these years, do you think it was worth it?”

“Steve thought so,” Howard said.

“Steve was a patriotic idiot. Always had been,” The Soldier replied. It was coming back to him, every day a bit more. The summer days during the depression, Steve's stories about his dead soldier father. (“Bucky, Bucky. Come on, there are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them.”)

“We believed in him and he didn't let us down.”

“He died, Howard. He died,” The Soldier said.

“We thought you did too,” Howard pointed out.

“Yes, I know, the difference is that I had no choice. It was an accident – I know the idiot blamed himself, but we both know it wasn't his fault, it was mine for following him,” he sighed. “The point is, he made a choice to bring that plane down and didn't even try to get out.”

Howard kept silent for a long time. “I have nothing. I can say nothing to that.”

The Soldier nodded. There was nothing to say to that. Different times back then. “You didn't answer my question.” The Soldier pointed out. “Do you think it was worth it?”

“Yes, I do. I still do. I know it's probably horrible, but I do. He saved so many lives. You are saving so many lives right now.”

It didn't feel that way. Hadn't felt that way back then either. All he remembered when he closed his eyes was the view through the scope of the rifle. The body falling on the other end of it. He clenched the metal hand to a fist.  
“With Tony and everything else,” Howard said after another short silence. “I'm thinking about leaving SHIELD.”

“Probably a good idea. The boy needs his father.”

Howard nodded. “I know that you're probably not there yet, but once you are – there is money and papers for you. So you can have a normal life.”

“Howard-”

“I think it was fate that I bought Nobukow's Cryo-chamber. It was fate, so I could atone for what I have done in my youthful foolishness.”

“Different times,” The Winter Soldier said.

“Sure, we can try and justify it with that. We're human and we will always stumble and make mistakes, and I know that it was the right decision then, but – I wish you hadn't died, I wish he hadn't died.”

“It was war. We knew the risks.”

“Back then, it was exciting, you know. It was all fun and games until you died. Then it became real and grim.”

The Winter Soldier smiled. “Yes, but it was still a war you needed to win.”

“Yes,” Howard replied, smiling back. “It was. And we did it and you are alive. History books should be rewritten.” He stretched.

“You should go home, Howard. To your family.”

“Yeah, appointment for the arm tomorrow. Gonna make it better.”

“Not doubting that for a second.” The Winter Soldier said.

“Good night,” Howard said.

“Howard?”

“Yes?”

“I hope it has a red star on it,” The Winter Soldier said.

Howard laughed. “Of course. Painted it myself.”

~+~  
The last mission was a clusterfuck of colossal proportions. He saw New Guy going down. He and Danner kept running.  
He felt the bullets penetrate, but ignored them. The snow made everything around them too soft and white. Bella was screaming in his ear to hurry the fuck up. The only real thing he could hold on to.  
He dragged Danner to the car or maybe Danner dragged him and they collapsed on the floor of the van. Bella's voice was too loud and shrill as she drove. She was screaming into the communicator.  
He didn't feel anything except the cold. All-encompassing, enveloping. He wondered if that was it.  
Danner was groaning beside him.  
Still alive then, The Winter Soldier thought.  
And then the darkness.

~+~  
“Bleeding out -”

“Mister Stark!”

“You can't-”

Pieces of angry voices. Above all Howard Stark barking orders. He gave into the darkness again.

“Can you hear me?” Stark asked.

He wanted to nod, but found it hard. Stark's hand was in his. “Squeeze once for yes and not at all for no, okay?”

He squeezed once.

“Good. You are injured very badly,” Howard said. “You will die, James. Do you understand?”

The Winter Soldier squeezed once.

“Okay. So... I'm thinking, that handy Cryo-chamber, yes?”

He didn't squeeze.

“James,” Howard said. “I know it can help you heal. Until we can fix you. Or your body fixes itself. As it's a fucking miracle, James.”

He didn't squeeze.

“You want to take a page out of Steve's book?” Howard asked angrily.

He didn't squeeze.

“James. Just say yes to that Chamber. I will get you out. I promise.”

The Winter Soldier squeezed once. He didn't want to die.

“Thank fucking god,” Howard exhaled and then he was barking orders again, but The Winter Soldier was slipping away into the darkness.

~+~  
He woke up long enough to see Howard Stark on the other side of the small window. It still felt like a metal coffin. The shivering started hard and fast and was gone just as fast.  
Stark's hand was on the glass, he was talking.  
The Winter Soldier couldn't hear him and then everything was blissfully falling away.

 

**~Four~**  
 _2012, apartment in New York_

Maybe, he thought once he woke up in the Chamber again, he should have told Stark that he better not leave him in that thing for another thirty years.  
The ice in his veins was melting away slowly. Every day a little more. The Winter Soldier nothing more than a Ghost story to scare new agents.  
Howard was dead now. Murdered. Which explained why he had been in that Chamber until it broke down on its own. He wondered if whoever was responsible for that last mission that nearly killed The Winter Soldier, was also responsible for Howard Stark's death.  
There was nothing he could do about it now. Tony Stark seemed to do okay for himself too.  
It was a brave new world. Still no flying cars, he thought wryly.

With no one to help him find his way, the only thing he had were the papers and the money Howard left him and it was a fucking miracle that it was all still there, that he could just take it, that it had been waiting for him for thirty years.  
Just one fingerprint away.  
James B. Barnes.  
No Winter Soldier, no Bucky, not an agent.  
Just James. Once he was sure he had money and an apartment he destroyed the Cryo-chamber. No matter what, he wasn't going to go back in there. Never again.

~+~  
He rode the trains all over the city to get a feel for it. It was not the city he remembered, but at the same time, it still was. Buildings and places. Not everything had changed. There was of course that horrible Stark Tower.  
Tony Stark wasn't a humble man, he thought, as he pulled his hair back with a hairband. They weren't only for women anymore.  
The hand and arm were still covered up as best he could, but even if it was too warm for it, it didn't seem to be an issue. Girls smiled at him in passing, even a few men.  
It was indeed a brave new world. His thoughts wandered to Alexej. He wondered if he was dead or if he was happy with someone else. If he made his dreams come true. Left Russia, the Alps behind, saw Europe.  
He wondered about Steve too. Wondered what it would be like to see Steve again. If Steve hadn't gone and died. Steve would be old by now. So old. And Bucky would still look like 32. On some days he felt older than he looked. On some days he felt all of his 95 years.

~+~  
It wasn't like James needed to work, not with all the money Howard had left him, but he didn't like to feel useless. He remembered that he had had the odd job here and there before the war. Tending bars and at the docks.  
He couldn't remember ever being a bouncer for a nightclub, but it came naturally to him.  
Keeping people from making asses out of themselves or from breaking each other's noses was a good way to earn some money and spent nights among human beings. The metal arm was still a curiosity, but it fit in just fine with the overall theme. And made him look 'badass', as the kids liked to call it these days. And they were kids, they weren't much younger than James, but they were kids.

“Going for breakfast to that café in front of Stark Tower, wanna come?” Peter asked at the end of the shift.

Until now James always declined, but – it was good to have friends. He used to be good with people, he used to have friends.  
“Sure,” he said easily.

Peter stopped striping out of his work clothes and looked at him. His white T-Shirt a stark contrast to his dark skin, still in hand. “You're coming?”

“Was this not an invitation?” James grinned.

“Shit, it was. It so was, but until now you've always said no and I've asked twenty two times.”

“Twenty- three if we count today,” James replied.

“See, James? Can't blame a guy for double checking, can you?” Peter said, pulling his shirt on.

“Guess, I can't,” James grinned.

~+~  
“That building is such an eyesore,” James said sitting with the back to it.

Peter laughed. Andre had joined them for breakfast too. He was itching for a cigarette, but smoking wasn't a thing you did in public places like this anymore.  
“People come here so they can see Iron Man fly by, he sometimes does,” Andre said.

“You've seen him?” James wanted to know.

“Once, my girlfriend was so fucking excited we did it three times that night,” he answered, grinning.

That was another thing, James thought. Sex, it seemed to be everywhere. And people didn't hide it. Kitty the waitress at the club was picked up by her girlfriend nearly every night. No one seemed to care.

“You have someone special in your life?” Peter asked.

“He was dying to ask that question,” Andre cut in.

“Shut up jerk,” Peter said.

“Is it because of the arm?” Andre asked. “Does it make it harder to meet people? Because I think I saw a few girls who wanted to take you home.”

“Andre, fuck.”

James laughed. “It's fine. I lost the arm a long time ago. This is – this is me now.”  
They nodded.

“So, why no one special then?” Peter asked. He was curios too, and James couldn't blame him. He had been working with these guys for over four months now and they only knew the basics about him.

“There used to be someone, but he's dead,” James said and wasn't sure he was talking about Alexej or Steve. Both of them were special. As was Ewa.

“Sorry man.”

“So, you're -”

“Gay, is the word you're looking for,” Peter cut in.

Andre gave him a look. “Thank you smart-ass.”

“Bi, actually. There were girlfriends.”

“Ha!” Andre said and then looked sheepish for doing it.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I'm starving, does someone see the waitress?”

James spotted her and called out. “Miss!”

She turned, smiled at him. She always did.

“You are a fucking charm,” Peter said.  
James smiled.

~+~  
When he wasn't working or working out how this new world functioned, he was signing up for martial arts classes and shooting ranges. It kept him fit, it made him deadlier still in a way, but – it wasn't like he was going to war any time soon. This was fun. A lot of people did it.  
It was teaching him more control. The arm was still a weapon. A gun was a gun was a gun even if you only used it to crack nuts with.  
It didn't let him hide the arm either. Sometimes he wanted to, but it was better to just make it feel as normal for other people as it was to him.

Life was good. Life was normal.  
This was the future as he had dreamed it up – not exactly, but close (some things were still missing - Steve) – when he had been in Europe shooting at Hydra agents, trying to save the world. Bucky Barnes was a hero.  
James B. Barnes was a guy working in a nightclub, who happened to have a metal arm.

~+~  
“Girl with the pink hair and the lip ring,” Andre said.

James looked at her, she smiled. It was an invitation. “Yeah, not ready for that yet.”  
Andre laughed.  
It was an off night for them, so they went drinking.

“Not into pink hair or lip rings?”

“I like the pink hair, it looks like candy, but – not sure about the ring.”

“Deep down, you are an old fashioned guy, James, aren't you?” Jeanette asked. Andre's hand was on her leg, stroking absentmindedly.

“I guess I am,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“So how does she have to be?” Jeanette asked. “Or he?”

“Fierce. Kind, I don't know,” James said. “Strong.”

“In body or mind?” Andre asked.

James cocked his head. “You know; I never really made a distinction.”

“No type to speak of then, except no piercings,” Jeanette said.

James nodded, but was spared from answering as Peter came back with beers.  
“On me, my dear friends,” he said, setting the bottles down.

“You are my favorite, Peter,” Jeanette said.

“Something I need to know?” Andre asked.

“Maybe,” Jeanette teased.

“What did I miss?” Peter asked.

“James doesn't like piercings,” Andre said.

“Really? Maybe I can share some stories that could change your mind. Is this about that girl with the pink hair?”

James groaned. “Please don't.”

“But they are really good stories!” Peter laughed.

James grabbed a beer. “I will be scarred for life once you're done and I already have my fair share.”

Jeanette stroked his metal arm, because it was closest. “Never saw something like it. Did you paint it?”

“No, it's shiny metal.”

“And the star?” Peter asked.

“What star?” Jeanette asked.

“Show her the star please?” Andre asked.

James sighed, but pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt up to reveal the star.

“That is – beautiful.” Jeanette breathed.

“Thank you,” James replied.

“So, the star?”

“A love-token,” James said.

“Your lover painted it on you?” Jeanette asked. “Why?”

James smiled. “Said he couldn't paint a red heart.”

“You were a soldier back then, right?”

“Yes,” James replied.

“What was he like?” Jeanette asked, which wasn't the question he had expected.

“Younger, the most beautiful green eyes, kind, strong, funny. Russian.” It didn't mean anything to them. That Alexej had been Russian. It wasn't a big deal now. It didn't matter, of course not, it didn't matter he had been with a man.  
James took a swig of his beer while Peter was telling a story about a Russian girlfriend he once had.  
Life was good, James decided.

~+~  
And then because life was a bitch that way sometimes the aliens happened.  
He was not even thinking about it, his body took over. He grabbed Peter and the waitress and ran, while other people were still staring.

“What the fuck?” Peter said over and over again. “What the fuck was that?”  
James shook his head and kept running until he thought they were save from the – aliens.

“Aliens, right?” The waitress asked. “That were aliens.”

James nodded. He wasn't sure, but they sky sure as hell opened up and big ugly things came out of a hole in it, so - “That or angels and boy do I have to have a talk with my priest if they were angels.”  
The waitress laughed and then clapped her hands over her mouth like she was sorry.

“Didn't know you were Christian,” Peter said.

“On some days I am.”

Peter nodded. “What now Soldier?” He asked.

James balled his metal hand to a fist. “Now we're going to get you two somewhere save and-”

“You're not going out there, are you, James?” Peter interrupted.

“People are in danger,” James said.

“You would be in danger.”

James smiled. “I am dangerous just fine.”

“James,” The waitress said, “It's James, right?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“You don't even have a gun and what I could see of them – they have guns and flying – something. And let's not forget the huge whale or whatever in the sky. Going out there is madness.”

“The police are doing what they can,” James insisted.

“They are paid to-”

“I say not enough to stand against an alien force, Peter,” James cut in.

“You are a bouncer!”

“I am a Soldier. Peter, I am The Soldier. I just need to get my hands on one of those guns and -”

“How?” The waitress cut in.

“Not your problem,” he smiled at her.

“James, you just saved my life,” she said.

“I'm sure you would have been smart enough to run on your own.”

She nodded. “Still.”

He grabbed her shoulders, looked at her. “It wouldn't be the first time for me standing against an enemy that seems to be so much stronger than me. Than us. I can do this.”

“There is no talking you out of this, is there?” Peter asked.

“No, there really isn't,” James answered.

“Okay,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I'm-”

“The next words out of your mouth are better, taking that waitress to safety and hide until this is over, Peter. I can't be worrying about a civilian out there.” He knew it stung, could see it on Peter's face, but he nodded.

“Fine. But I will kill you if you die.”

“Never understood that phrase,” James replied, grinning.

“You are crazy,” Peter said, and then hugged him hard and fast. “Be careful.”

“I got this,” James said.

The waitress kissed his cheek. “What he said.”

“Go now!” James said.

They nodded.

~+~  
It was a mess out there, even with one of the alien's weapons it was still hard and messy. People were screaming, bleeding and hiding. The police was completely unprepared and overwhelmed and then James saw Iron Man just above his head. He took a breath and then ran into the carnage.  
He pulled people out of cars and helped to herd the wounded into a safe place until the paramedics could get to them. Wondered if the waitress and Peter made it out okay. The attack seemed to be concentrated on one spot. Close to Stark Tower. He had to get there.

He was pulling an older man out of a car when the blue and red caught his eye. His head snapped in that direction. Captain America was standing on a police-car, barking orders. And then fighting allies and it could be anyone, James knew, but - it was Steve. It was Steve. How the hell could it be Steve?  
For an endless moment he and the old man he pulled out of a car just stared.

“I thought he was dead,” the man said.

“Yeah, so did I,” James said and then snapped out of it. “You need to go, it's too dangerous here.”

“What about you son?”

James grinned, he was older than this man and - “I'm going to help out a bit more.”

“Awfully handy with that alien gun,” he replied. James shrugged. “You a soldier?”

“Used to be.”

“Good luck!” He said, patted James on the shoulder, the metal one even and ran.  
James shook his head. Something exploded nearby. He ducked and then ran straight ahead. People were shouting, he ignored the police.  
There was a bus nearby and people were still in there. Civilians who needed help. Targets that he had to get out of there.

~+~  
James threw the gun away and sank against the wall. His muscles ached, the gash on his shoulder hurt like hell, but it was finally over.  
Peter and the waitress were alright. Peter had texted their location.  
James got up from the ground and looked around. It was a battlefield. He didn't care. It was fine, it was carnage he had seen before. Many times.  
What he cared about was Steve.  
He needed to make sure it was Steve under that mask. He needed to hear Steve's voice again. He needed to touch Steve. He just needed to find Steve for fuck's sake.  
It couldn't be so hard to find a man in a star spangled suit, could it?

~+~  
“Thinking about moving to Missouri,” Peter said a few days later.

“New York got too exciting for you?” Andre asked.

“You weren't there,” Peter shot back. The alien attack really fucked Peter up.

“And you James?” Andre asked.

“Not sure yet, maybe,” James replied. It wasn't because New York was too exciting for him. It was because he needed to find Steve. And Steve was with SHIELD.

“What. No way!” Andre said. “Not because of the aliens, is it?”

“Partly I guess. Wasn't pretty.”

“But Stark and the Avengers handled it just fine.”

“People died. A lot of people died. That must have fucked them up too,” Peter said, looking into his beer.

“It sure fucked up Cap,” James said.

Andre gave him a look. “You saw him?”

“Yes,” James said.

“Was it him or was it someone else wearing the uniform?”

“How the hell should he know?” Peter asked. “Guy was wearing a mask. Besides – Steve Rogers is dead.”

“But what if he somehow survived?”

“Then he would be 95,” Peter answered.

“94,” James corrected.  
Andre gave him another look.

“Point is, he would be old. That guy, seemed young,” Peter said.

“He was young,” James confirmed.

Andre leaned back against the couch. “Guess we will find out soon enough. Can't keep that under wraps forever, can they?”

“No, I think not. It's all over the news. And on youtube.”

“You too,” Andre said suddenly.

“What?” James asked.

“On youtube. Some guy made a video of you taking names, kicking alien ass and saving lives.”

“What?” James asked again. When did people have the fucking time to do that? It was in the middle of an alien attack!

“Here,” Andre said, handing him his phone. “There are a few more, but this one shows the arm. So I knew it was you. I mean, Peter told me you were a crazy son of a gun, but – where did you learn that?” He asked.

“The army,” James replied.

“Really?”

“And secret service, special ops, martial art classes down at the community center,” James replied.

“Okay...” Peter replied.

“Here is a crazy idea,” Andre said. “Maybe you should join SHIELD.”  
James smiled. Been there, done that, he thought.

“Or the Avengers, I think you could rock the arm as a superhero. Maybe they will make action figures modeled on you!” Peter said.

“Maybe I will. Who doesn't want an action figure modeled on themselves?” he replied laughing.

He probably should, because right now no one had Steve's fucking back.  
And at this rate he would die before he turned thirty.

 

**~Five~**  
 _2014, D.C._

Every single skill he ever learned was still there. Tracking from hunting deer with Marek and Alexej. All the languages he ever learned. His French was really good now too, a few courses at the community center fixed that.  
Weapons training with SHIELD back in the seventies. Hand to hand combat.  
He knew he could be an asset. He knew there had to be some files about the Winter Soldier still in the archives.  
He wasn't too keen on explaining who he really was and how he was still alive. Didn't want to be analyzed and picked apart.  
So he was really fucking unsure if he should just march over to SHIELD and ask them for a job.  
There was also the thing about Steve.  
Steve, and it was Steve, Bucky read all about him in the papers, even read the interviews he gave. Rare as they were.  
Hell the world thought Bucky Barnes was dead. Maybe it was better to just let them think he was dead.  
But – Steve was an idiot with no backup to speak off.

Bucky had found an apartment close to Steve's. Steve had no clue, didn't realize that his neighbor Kate was an agent too.  
How was this man still alive?  
Bucky didn't like that SHIELD was spying on Steve. He didn't like that Steve wasn't living like he should be. He went to work, he went to the gym, he went home. On some days he watched TV, on most days he just ate his dinner, showered and went to bed.  
That was no life.

Bucky was in D.C. for only three months and he had already something like friends. The elderly Russian woman from downstairs was forever chatting him up. It was charming as hell, she made good borscht too.  
Steve had no one. He sometimes looked like he would like to talk to Kate, but then he just said hello as she passed him on the stairs and closed the door of his apartment.  
It was fucking sad to look at.

~+~  
He had exactly two choices, he realized as he watched Steve drag himself up the stairs one night.  
Get the hell out of here and leave Steve to his new life, no matter how badly he chose to live (or not live) it, or come out to Steve and face all the consequences.

Living in the shadows was no way to live, he had done that back in the seventies, but even back then he had Howard. And stalking Captain America wasn't a healthy way to spend his life either.  
Sooner or later someone would notice. That Russian woman probably. Romanoff. She was sharp, but Bucky could not be sure she would have Steve's back, if her orders were contrary.

~+~  
Bucky watched Steve roam the Smithsonian Museum. Watched him stand in front of a blown out of proportion photograph of Bucky Barnes. Watched Steve's eyes go distant, sad. Angry. All these years and Steve was still angry at himself, still blamed himself, still wasn't over Bucky.  
It's not your fault, idiot, he wanted to say. But would that make it better or just worse? Telling Steve that he had been alive and aware of Steve being alive for two years and that he hadn't done anything about it?

But seeing Steve like that, gazing at the photograph, watching those black and white movie clips, it hurt too much.

He was pretty much ready to give up and step out of the shadows when Steve chatted up Sam, or maybe let Sam chat him up.  
He found out anything he could about Steve's new friend.  
Sam seemed like someone who would have Steve's back. He seemed like someone who could recognize the hole in Steve's life and try to be there for him. Try to fix Steve as far as Steve was willing to be fixed.  
Sam was like a better, less damaged version of Bucky.  
No childhood spent together, no baggage. No unrequited feelings. No guilt.  
Sam could be what Steve needed.  
It was time to get back to his life in New York. He was sure he could get back his old bouncer job. His friends would still be there.

~+~  
One last look at Steve's apartment was all he wanted and that was pretty much when all hell broke loose. There was no time for a mask or uniform, no time to grab more than the knives and a gun before he was up the stairs, running to make sure that Steve was okay.

“What?” Steve said as Kate came in. She had it handled. The assassin was fleeing over the rooftops. Bucky in pursuit and he could feel Steve behind him.  
Shit, how did that look to Steve? He felt the shield more than he heard it, grabbed it on instinct with his left hand. Took a breath, turned.  
“Bucky?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

“Not now! A little busy here,” he yelled back, threw the shield to Steve, miscalculated the strength, then was down the roof in pursuit of the assassin again.

Lost him. Shit, precious seconds wasted with Steve on that rooftop.

He ran a hand over his face, went back to Steve's apartment, looked up. Steve was still on the roof. Looking down at him.

“Lost him!” he said.

Steve nodded, still just staring. “Bucky,” he said. Bucky couldn't actually hear him down on the street, but – the shape of his mouth, that was familiar. And then Steve was gone and Bucky waited for him to come down.  
The medics were there when Steve came down. Kate was with Fury.  
Steve was – torn.

“I got this, Captain,” Kate said.

Steve nodded, Bucky waited. “I'll meet you at the hospital.”  
She didn't answer, got in the car and followed the ambulance.

“Steve-” Bucky said and was crushed against Steve's chest a second later. Steve smelled the same under the smell of drywall. He felt the same. (“I thought you were dead.” - “I thought you were smaller.”)

“I thought you were dead,” Steve said.

“See? I thought that too,” Bucky replied into Steve's neck. He knew he had to let go soon, but it just wasn't happening. Steve had debris stuck in his hair and Fury had been shot at and shit was going down that was endangering their lives, probably other people's too, but – Steve wasn't letting go either.

“You're alive,” Steve said, finally pulling away, so he could look at Bucky.

“Yeah, funny story that,” Bucky replied. “Gonna tell you all about that, once we know why your apartment had been shot up.”

“Right,” Steve said.

“I know he told you to not trust anyone,” Bucky said. “And now you're thinking, could this guy that looks like Bucky be a spy?”

“I-”

“A bit late for that, you know? I have five knives on me. I could have stabbed you any time during the last two minutes and 36 seconds you just weren't letting go and taken that USB drive,” Bucky said.

“You didn't.”

“Of course I didn't,” Bucky replied. “Steve-” he stopped. “Shit, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry.”  
Steve hugged him again.

~+~  
“What now?” Bucky asked. He had waited in the lobby as Steve crashed down in a rain of glittering glass.

“SHIELD is compromised,” Steve said.

“No shit,” Bucky replied, he was driving the stolen car.

“We need to find out what is on that drive.”

“And hide,” Bucky said. “They don't know about me.”

“No, they don't,” Steve said.

“But my apartment is too close to yours to be of any use. Also not too great with computer shit.”

Steve smiled. “Me neither.” He leaned his head against the seat, closed his eyes.

“That Russian woman,” Bucky said.

“Natasha?”

“She seems like she knows what she's doing,” Bucky replied.

“She does. She is good with computers too,” Steve bit his lip.

“You don't trust her?”

Steve shrugged. “Fury did say to not trust anyone.”

“If she tries something funny, I will put a bullet in her skull,” Bucky said.

“Bucky – she's a friend.”

“Can you be sure?”

Steve kept silent. It was answer enough.

~+~  
Natasha found them, she was bleeding and pissed off.  
Cursing in Russian all the time while Sam was dressing her wounds.

“Who's that guy?” she asked.

“Bucky,” Steve said.  
She gave him a look. Bucky knew she would make Steve explain if they had the time, but they didn't. Shit was indeed about to hit the fan. “I trust him,” Steve added.

She hissed then swatted Sam's hands away. “I'm fine. Let's find out what is on that damn USB that everyone will kill for.”  
They nodded.

It would be too risky for Steve to venture outside, so they decided that Bucky and Natasha would go.  
Steve wasn't happy about it, Bucky knew, but there was no way in hell it was a good idea to have Steve walking around D.C. Everyone and their mother knew his face.  
Bucky and Natasha weren't plastered on every bus station.

~+~  
“You seem like you know him well,” Natasha said as she was sticking the USB in.

“We go way back.”

“Bucky...” she let the word roll around her mouth slowly. “Wait, The Bucky?”

He looked at the screen. “Yeah. It's a long story. One day I'll write it down and make someone very attractive play me once they make it into a movie.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Anyone particular in mind?”

“Still debating, found anything yet?”

“Whoever designed this was slightly smarter than me, but – give me a second.”

“We're running out of time,” Bucky said. “They will be here any minute.”

“Just a second,” she stressed. Bucky sighed and watched their surroundings. “There,” she said.

Bucky looked at the screen. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Steve's gonna be all nostalgic about it.”

“Why?”

“It’s where he came from.”

“What?”

“Base-camp,” Bucky said and grabbed her hand. “We need to go.”  
She nodded.

~+~  
Bucky was dressing Steve's wounds after the Zola disaster. Steve was just staring at him.

“Still here,” Bucky said.

“Everything is breaking apart and you-” Steve cut himself off.

“Still here,” Bucky said, looking up at him. Steve's eyes were so fucking blue. It was stupid, it was so stupid how much Bucky loved him, had always loved him.

Steve's hand made it to Bucky's cheek, just cradling, holding, and he was still looking.  
Someone made a noise at the door. Bucky grinned at Sam. “Breakfast? You guys do breakfast yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Bucky said. “Be right there.”

“When this is over,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I know. We need to talk.”

Steve smiled. “Wasn't particularly my first thought. But yeah, talking is good too,” and then he leaned down and kissed Bucky, which – fuck.

~+~  
“Let me get this straight,” Sam said. “You want to kidnap a SHIELD agent, make him tell you all their evil plans and then go from there?”

“Pretty much.”

“How?”

“The kidnapping?” Natasha asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “The talking. I bet these guys learn to keep their secrets.”

Bucky cocked his head. “I have means and ways.”  
Steve didn't look at him.  
Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. Showing the metal arm off. No one had asked about it yet, but Bucky knew that Steve wanted to. “I'm more worried about what comes after. Once we know what they are up to.”

“Must have something to do with the helicarriers; Project Insight,” Natasha said. “It's the big thing.”  
Steve nodded.

Sam took a sip of coffee. “Okay, guys, this is what I'm thinking and it might be a bit out there and crazy-”

Bucky grinned. “You've met him right?” he asked, with a nod at Steve.

Sam grinned back. “Yeah. Point taken.”

~+~  
Bucky wouldn't say it was a walk in the park from the moment they knew what was going to happen once the helicarriers were up in the air.  
It was obliviously a blow to both Steve and Natasha that SHIELD was infiltrated by HYDRA on every level.  
They were pretty much the only four people who could stop this from happening.

“I did say I wouldn't rest until all of HYDRA was gone,” Steve said, clenching his fists.

“Can't remember that,” Bucky replied.

“It was after - “

“I died, right,” he cut in. “Okay. On board with this plan. You want to bring all of it down?”

“Yes.”

“SHIELD too?” Natasha asked.

“There is no SHIELD,” Steve said. “There are a few people who think they are working for SHIELD, but Natasha all of it is -”

“I know. Just making sure. No regrets,” she said.

“No regrets.”

“We might die,” Natasha said.

“We won't,” Bucky replied, because there was no way in hell he would let any of them die. No way in hell. After nearly one hundred years of being in love with Steve, there was no way in hell he was dying with just a chaste kiss shared between them.

“How do we get on those carriers to bring them down?” Sam asked.

“Here is an idea that worked before,” Steve said. “We're gonna use the front door.”

“Better we sneak in the back,” Bucky replied.

“You take the fun out of everything,” Steve said fondly.

“It's how I keep you alive, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve said.  
Just like fucking old times, Buck thought.

~+~  
Bucky wasn't sure if Steve's speech was only a diversion tactic. It sounded very real and heartfelt. Sam was fucking impressed, so was Bucky to be honest. But that was one thing about Steve; he could inspire people to do better.

“Now for the hard part,” Sam said.

“Remember, if they're shooting at you, they're the bad guys,” Steve shot back.

Sam rolled his eyes and was airborne a second later. It was fucking beauty in motion.  
“I want one if those once this is over,” Bucky said.

“You might be too heavy for it,” Steve replied as they were taking down Hydra agents right and left.  
It was chaos, Steve had been right. Not everyone was on board with the Hydra plan. Good people were dying to make a better world.

“We need to have words later about how to woo someone, Rogers,” he said, taking out a pilot so he could steal the plane.

Steve grinned. “See you on the other side.”

“Punk!” Bucky said. It pretty much meant 'I love you'.

~+~  
Bucky saw the helicarrier going down, saw Steve fall into the river. Didn't think twice about leaving the plane and jumping in right after him.  
Steve was bruised, bleeding from a gun-wound and cut up badly, but still breathing.  
Bucky was shouting for Natasha and Sam to get a medic there at once.

Steve coughed. “I'm fine.”

“You're not,” Bucky said, pressing down on the bullet wound in Steve's stomach. Blood just didn't stop flowing. “The fuck?”

“Unnamed assassin,” Steve said. “Was waiting for me. Didn't go down easily.”

“Thank fuck he has a shitty aim,” Bucky replied.  
Steve coughed out a laugh. And then some blood.  
“Stay with me. Don't you dare fucking die!”

“Now you know how that feels,” Steve said, closing his eyes.  
Bucky pressed harder on the wound and Steve's eyes snapped open.

“Don't you dare! I had no choice you do and you owe me so much sex Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Blowjobs, lots of those. I like those. Kissing, with tongue and not that half-assed thing you tried earlier. Fingers up my ass-”

Steve groaned. It was a pained but good groan. “Bucky-”

“You wanna live now or what?”

Steve was spared from answering by the medics arriving. Bucky made room for them but didn't let Steve out of his sight.

~+~  
He and Sam took turns at Steve's bed. They left everything else to Natasha and Agent Hill. Fury was still alive, which was good, Bucky thought, but – it wasn't his main concern.

“On your left,” Steve said and Bucky didn't understand, but Sam did because he smiled.

Bucky kissed Steve's knuckles and closed his eyes. “Welcome back punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve said, but that was fine, because Bucky knew it meant 'I love you'.

**~Epilogue~**  
 _2015, apartment in Brooklyn_

Bucky smashed the alarm clock with his metal hand and Steve groaned into the pillow. “You need to stop doing that,” he said.

“You need to stop setting it even if it's an off day,” Bucky replied. “Besides we have like twenty of those.”

“Because you keep smashing them like the Hulk,” Steve said. Bucky could hear the smile in his voice.

“You have the weirdest friends.”

“They love you. Natasha won't shut up about you – you know for Natasha.”

“Dames always liked me,” Bucky said.

Steve turned to look at him. His hair was a mess and his mouth slack: his skin sleep warm and Bucky sometimes still couldn't believe that he got to wake up with Steve in his, their, bed.  
“This particular fella likes you,” Steve said, pushing even closer to Bucky.

“Yeah?” Bucky said.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered and then his mouth was pressing against Bucky's; soft and hot. He rolled around so he was above Steve, straddling Steve's hips. He pushed his ass against Steve's half hard dick.

“Oh captain-” he said.

Steve slapped him lightly “Shut up, oh god, shut up.”

“I've seen the comics they made about you. I was sixteen in those,” Bucky replied with a wicked grin.

“We weren't fucking when you were sixteen,” Steve pointed out.

“For the record? I wanted into your pants back then badly,” Bucky said.

Steve sat up and kissed him, dragged him down so Bucky was lying pressed to Steve. “Instead you went out with a lot of girls,” Steve said.

“You and I- we weren’t ready,” Bucky whispered. He believed it too. Steve hadn’t know about Bucky’s feelings.

“I was an idiot,” Steve whispered and kissed Bucky gently.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “You were.” But maybe it was better that way. Steve had grieved when he lost Bucky, but it would have been probably worse if they had been lovers back then. “You can make it up to me.”

“How many blow jobs do I owe you still?” Steve asked, letting his hand slide down Bucky’s back to grab his ass. He massaged it gently and then a bit harder when Bucky started to thrust against Steve’s thigh.

“A lot, you can never pay me back,” Bucky answered.

“I have the rest of our lives to try,” Steve said and it was so hopelessly stupidly romantic that Bucky groaned and buried his face against Steve’s throat, kissed the skin there, sucked on it and then bit down gently. It made Steve’s hips jerk in that delicious way Bucky knew all too well now.  
Steve flipped them so Bucky was on his back and looked at him and Bucky looked just back. God, could he be even more stupidly in love with Steve?

Steve kissed him again, long and hard; it left them both panting and Steve’s fingers were still firmly planted on his ass. They needed to be naked now. At least the underwear had to go. Bucky pushed Steve’s hands away and pushed his boxers down. Steve looked at his dick like it was the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever seen and then he licked his lips.  
Steve undressed in moments and then his face was between Bucky’s legs. His breath ghosting over Bucky’s hard dick. Bucky fumbled in the drawer for the lube.  
Steve was just taking him in his mouth when Bucky found it.

“Steve,” he said breathlessly, pushing the lube at Steve. He loved it when Steve played with his hole while he sucked him off.  
Steve’s fingers brushed his as he took the lube from Bucky, he didn’t stop sucking Bucky’s cock. God, the serum did wonders for Steve’s lungs, Bucky thought dimly, not for the first time.  
The lube was the kind that warmed up and it made everything just so much better when Steve pushed the first finger in. He always started with one, even by now Bucky could easily take two at once without any discomfort.  
Steve, Bucky learned, liked to draw it out, liked to tease and reduce Bucky to a whining mess in their bed. Steve also liked when Bucky cradled his head, tangled his fingers in Steve’s hair and pulled a little, guided a little, and made him take Bucky deeper.  
Steve liked to feel the fingers of the metal hand around his neck, too.

Steve pushed another finger inside and curled them just right and Bucky swore in – Russian. Steve moaned around Bucky’s dick. He loved when Bucky talked dirty to him in different languages.  
On the edge of sleep, when they were both exhausted, Steve often whispered endearments in French, things he’s learned from Dernier a lifetime ago.  
Steve added a third finger, fucking Bucky for real now, and Bucky grabbed Steve's neck a bit tighter, thrust into that hot willing mouth faster, balancing on the edge. He didn’t warn Steve he was about to come, because by now Steve knew; he could read it in Bucky’s body language. He pulled a bit harder on Steve’s hair and Steve moaned again, sending Bucky over the edge.

He let Steve lick him clean and then pulled him up, grabbed Steve’s cock and jerked him off hard and fast. He watched Steve bite his lip when he came and then kissed it tenderly. He would never get tired of seeing that.

~+~  
Steve had his friends, who were all weird as hell, and had accepted Bucky without hesitation, and Bucky had his which Steve really needed to meet.  
Steve had changed his shirt three times before Bucky had sucked him off to calm him down.  
Steve had cursed him for that because he had to change again after.  
Now, though, he was chatting with Andre and Jeanette while Peter and Bucky were at the bar waiting for their orders.  
Peter looked back at their table ever so often and Bucky wasn’t sure he was always looking at his new girlfriend.

“You know,” Peter said, looking from Steve to Bucky, “Your boyfriend looks like Captain America.”

“That is because my boyfriend is Captain America,” Bucky replied, grabbing their order.

“Funny,” Peter said, grabbing half their order and walking back over to their table.

“You don’t think I could snatch Captain America?” Bucky asked as he put down their beers.

“I believe you could have anyone,” Jeanette said.

“Damn straight,” Bucky said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t mean your boyfriend is Captain America.”

“Steve?” Bucky said.

Steve sighed. “Not always,” he said, “On most days I’m just Steve Rogers.”

Peter looked at him and then at Bucky. “You’re kidding.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” Bucky said with a grin.

“No way,” Peter said. “Prove it!”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” Bucky said with a grin.

“No, but really-“

“What do you want to see? The shield?” Jeanette asked, rolling her eyes.

“I leave that at home when I’m going drinking,” Steve threw in. “But maybe this will help.” He pulled out is phone and called Tony.

“Capsicle,” Tony said.

“Tony,” Steve replied.

“If you’re calling to cancel movie night, forget it. I’m not sitting alone through whatever Thor is bringing this time-“

Steve smiled at Peter.  
“This is Tony Stark. You have Iron Man’s number.”

“What is this about, Cap? Are you trying to impress young men? Does Barnes know about this?”

Bucky snatched the phone. “Barnes approves of kinky threesomes,” he said and hung up before Tony could answer.

“Great,” Steve said. “He will bring this up at movie night, you know he will.”

“You have movie nights with Iron Man,” Peter said.

“We have movie nights with Iron Man,” Bucky replied.

“Because your boyfriend is Captain America,” Peter said.

“Oh,” Jeanette sat up and looked at them. “OH!” She grinned. “I know my history, Barnes. I know my history,” she said gleefully.

He smiled at her. “Took him long enough.”

She nodded. “Are you getting a new symbol on your arm?”

Bucky laughed. “No. But you might see it on TV soon.” They had talked about him joining the Avengers, but Bucky hadn’t been sure at first if he was a good fit.

Steve grabbed him by the neck and kissed him hard. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, because of course he would have Steve’s back.


End file.
